Wrong Participants
by Galaxy Hunter
Summary: In the height of Harry's fourth year, the Goblet of fire spits out not Cedric's name, but THE BIG DADDY! Complete and total insanity unfolds as the Goblet randomly spits out names of various game/movie/book characters. Collection of one-shots. Crackfic.
1. Chapter 1

An idea that came to mind just today at lunch, thought it was funny. Another crack fic.

None of the characters belong to me, I'm just borrowing them and playing with creators' sanboxes...

**Wrong Participants**

Standing at the head of the darkened Great Hall, Albus Dumbledore looked down at the eager young faces of his students and those of the two visiting schools. Beside him, the Goblet of Fire's flames turned blue once more and spat out a crumpled piece of parchment. He reached up and deftly caught the smoking note and held in front of his face.

His eyes went wide with shock and lost their entire twinkle. His voice shaking slightly, he announced to the expectant hall. "The c-champion for Hogwarts is the Big Daddy!"

At the Hufflepuff table a giant armored figure clad in an ancient diving suit stood up and bellowed his acceptance of the challenge. A young girl with glowing yellow eyes and wearing a filthy pink dress cheered from her perch next to the creature's spherical helmet.

"You can do it Mr. B! Make me proud!" She cheered in that unsettling voice of hers.

* * *

_The First Task…_

Dumbledore winced as the diving suit-clad being bellowed an ear-splitting screech and charged forward faster than anyone would have thought possible. It leapt through the air and landed on the Hungarian Horntail's neck, his weight snapping it in three places. All around in the stands the Hogwarts supporters were going crazy. The Big Daddy lifted its drill-arm high above his head and slammed it down on the dragon's skull, boring a huge hole in it and splattering him and the nearby stands with blood, bone, and bits of brain.

The Big Daddy jumped off of the twitching dragon carcass and landed heavily in the nest, crushing half of the eggs before he scooped up the golden egg.

The Big Daddy received the most abysmal scores for the first task, as he a) wasn't supposed to kill the dragon and b) smashed all of the normal eggs. He didn't care though; all he cared about was his little sister.

* * *

_The Second Task…_

"Last night, someone precious was stolen from each of our champions!" Dumbledore announced across the Back Lake to the cheering crowd. "Those people now lie imprisoned at the bottom of the Black Lake. Our champions will have an hour to-"

He was cut off as the Big Daddy's portholes turned blood red and an ear-splitting screech emanated from within his helmet. He jumped into the lake without a backwards glance. While the crowds in the stands stood there flabbergasted, the water began to churn and bubble ominously, as it quickly acquired a red tinge. Barely five minutes after the Big Daddy's outburst (everyone was too stunned to react, even Dumbledore) the triumphant being returned. In his left hand he clutched his little sister tightly to his armored chest, and the drill on his right hand still had the corpse of the Mer-chief impaled upon it.

"Bugger." Dumbledore whispered, before wincing as his comment reached every corner of the stands.

Big Daddy received no scores whatsoever for that task, having leapt into the lake before being given the go-ahead. The fact that he completely killed the entire merperson population might also have had something to do with that…

* * *

_The Final Task…_

"And now, in dead last place, Big Daddy enters the maze!" Ludo Bagman's voice boomed out over the stands at the transformed quidditch pitch.

The response was rather subdued. On one hand Big Daddy was dead last in the tournament, something the Hogwarts students found extremely insulting. On the other hand, Big Daddy's escapades in the tournament were a hell of a thing to watch. So it was with lukewarm applause as the diving-suit clad monster charged forward into the maze, and _through_ the first hedge obstacle, and the second, and the third.

Dumbledore and the others simply watched as the armored beast literally took the direct route to the center of the maze. Any obstacle in the way was swatted aside like an insect as the Big Daddy finally reached the center of the maze and hefted the cup high above his head. Then in a flash of light, he vanished as the portkey activated.

* * *

_The Graveyard…_

Big Daddy hit the ground and took stock of his surroundings. He was gone from the pitch. That didn't really bother him, except for the fact that his little sister was nowhere in sight! He turned quickly on the spot and his eyes lighted on a trembling, wide-eyed mousy-looking man.

Raw animal hatred consumed what little bit of his rational mind remained. _He_ was the one who had taken him from his little sister! With a bellow of challenge he charged at the now-petrified form of Peter Pettigrew, picking him up bodily and slamming him into the ground, shattering the weak wizard's spine and killing him instantly. Then for good measure the Big Daddy drove his drill straight through the wizard's stomach, splattering him with blood, guts, and gore.

In the pandemonium the Big Daddy's armored boot came down atop Voldemort's frail homunculus body and squished it like a bug. Voldemort, having invested so much of his magical energy trying to keep the body stable, vanished into the ether. His Horcruxes still worked, but the overriding intelligence that was Voldemort was gone. Only his fragments of soul remained behind, but without the primary force of Voldemort's 'spirit' to control them, they would just sit, locked away, forever.

* * *

_A few weeks Later…_

In the sanctity of his office, Dumbledore scowled down at the _Daily Prophet _before him, the headlines boldly proclaiming various bits of Earth-shattering news:

**Hogwarts Champion Single-Handedly Slays Death Eater and Dark Lord!**

And below that in slightly smaller font:

**Peter Pettigrew A Death Eater! Cowardly Scum Betrayed the Potters and Then Faked Death to Avoid Suspicion!**

And finally:

**Sirius Black Exonerated of All Crimes! Adopts Harry Potter!**

All of his plans were falling apart; all his carefully-laid schemes were undone by a madman in a diving suit. He sighed and rubbed his temples. '_It could be worse.' _He mused. '_Voldemort is dead, and there is peace, and Harry has at least some semblance of family.'_

He sat back and pondered what he would do with the rest of his life if he couldn't plot anymore. Perhaps he should take up knitting or something?

* * *

Well, hope y'all enjoyed that, I had the idea at lunch and thought to myself. '_Why, that'll make a fine idea for a story, in fact I could see various characters going through the tasks and completing them in their own unique ways.'_ Hence this. More chapters to come, and if anyone has any specific requests for people they'd like to see take the Triwizard challenge, let me know. I'm thinking next time I'll do someone from the Haloverse…

Oh, and why Hufflepuff for the Big Daddy? Obviously for his loyalty to his little sister!

Cheers!

-GH


	2. Chapter 2

So, due to insomnia and a large amount of caffeine, I can't get to sleep, so I decided to update my other crack fic. This time...

* * *

"The Champion for Hogwarts, is..." Headmaster Dumbledore paused, and furrowed his brow. Around him, the students assembled in the Great Hall watched with baited breath. Dumbledore held the paper up and peered closely at it, as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

"A-hem, the Champion for Hogwarts, is Spartan B-312!" He declared.

As one, the entire class turned to look at the figure sitting at the far end of the Gryffindor table. Clad from head-to-foot in slate-grey armor, complete with a sealed helmet, the young man showed no sign that he'd even heard the Headmaster's announcement. The entire school waited for a few seconds, before Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Mr.-" He paused, even when the young man had arrived at school many years ago, two feet shorter and even then clad in his insulating cocoon of metal and ceramic, he couldn't believe that anyone would have a last name as ridiculous as that. He mentally shrugged; wizards did do some fairly bizarre things. "Mr. B-312, please join the other champions.

Silently, the Spartan stood up and walked with silent grace towards the head table. Even as a kid, he'd always been a loner, and the fact that no one had ever seen his face hadn't helped. In fact, he never even took his helmet off to eat! No one even knew why he came to the Great Hall at mealtimes, because all he did was stick a straw up under his helmet and drink whatever was available. According to the Gryffindor boys, he didn't even take the armor off to shower!

As he drew level with the table, the Spartan turned his mirrored visor towards Dumbledore, and somehow he knew that the young man was staring him right in the face.

"You're going to regret this." He said in a soft, deep voice.

* * *

_The First Task..._

"And now!" Dumbledore's voice, magically amplified, boomed out to the entire crowd. "Mr. B-312 will enter the arena, and face his dragon!"

The crowd, safe in the heavily warded stands ringing the massive, boulder-strewn arena, cheered and looked towards the tent. A minute passed, and then another, and another, as the applause slowly died down to give way to murmurs of confusion.

"Uh, Mr. B-312, would you please enter the arena?" Dumbledore said, his voice betraying a hint of uncertainty.

In response, there came an echoing crack, and the Hungarian Horntail's massive head evaporated into a bloody red mist. The crowd screamed in shock and Dumbledore cursed a blue streak before belatedly canceling the _sonorous _charm on himself, looking sheepish. Five minutes later, Spartan B-312 came striding into the arena through the tent, holding a massive muggle sniper rifle, and calmly retrieved the golden egg from where it lay besides the dragon's rapidly cooling corpse.

"Was this supposed to be difficult?" he asked quietly, although his voice seemed to reach every part of the stands.

The crowd went wild with applause.

* * *

_The Yule Ball_...

"And now, Champions, and their, uh-" Professor McGonagall said, glancing at the pair of Spartans clad in heavy armor at the back of the formation. Spartan B-312 had invited a friend from out of town. Her armor was a light blue color, and slimmer, more feminine than his. She also had a robotic prosthetic replacing her right arm. "-Partners will enter the Great Hall."

The assembled champions and their dates walked in through the double doors, pausing as a bright flash illuminated them.

"You told me there wouldn't be any cameras." B-312 whispered to his head of house as he walked in with Kat on his arm.

"Yes, well, you told me you were going to wear something nice!" She replied as the couple stopped to have their picture taken. The transfiguration professor sighed. _This is going to be a long night._

* * *

_The Second Task_...

As the other two champions dove into the lake, Spartan B-312 merely held up his left wrist and began tapping on the glowing blue computer screen located there.

"Um, Mr. 312?" Ludo Bagman asked, walking up beside him. "What are you doing?"

"Fulfilling the Task." Was the curt reply.

"Uh, then why aren't you in the water?"

The Spartan cocked his head, and folded his arms across his chest. "Look, am I right in saying that my hostage is Kat –the one I went to the ball with?" It was a rhetorical question; really, his motion-tracker already knew that she was at the bottom of the lake.

"Well, yes."

"And since you probably put her is some sort of magical coma," Bagman nodded, and the nearby audience leaned in closely to listen. "Well, I just told her armor to inject a massive amount of stimulants into her system, with any luck she'll be waking up right about-"

Suddenly a huge dark shape broke the surface of the lake, flew through the air, and landed at B-312's feet. It was a merman, the angry red outline of a large fist still visible on his left cheek.

"Now." The Spartan finished calmly, as if injured merpeople often landed at his feet.

Seconds later Kat, her armor dripping with water, burst from the lake herself and landed next to B-312.

"Why you motherfucking-" She swore for ten minutes straight, becoming ever more creative as she went on, including discussing how the tournament organizers' mothers must have performed anatomically impossible acts with hordes of grunts, elites, and hunters, and how their fathers must not have had more than two brain cells to rub together, and threats to do... unspeakable things to each and every one of them with an unloaded sniper rifle.

B-312 looked up at the men and women at the top of the stand, who had grown ever-paler throw Kat's rant, and spoke one word to them.

"Run."

* * *

_The Third Task..._

B-312 dove around the corner and leveled his assault rifle. The stunned sphix barely had time to blink before it was perforated in a hail of lead. Running passed the still-twitching corpse; the Spartan slammed a fresh magazine home and consulted the mini-map in his heads-up display. He was getting close to the cup. He rounded one more corner as stopped in shock. Blocking his path was what appeared to be a large, mutated scorpion, with a pale, off-white shell, too many legs, and a massive, disproportionate stinger.

B-312 had heard rumors about Hagrid's blast-ended Skrewts from classmates actually taking Care of Magical Creatures, but he'd never actually seen one. If his intel was good, then the were slow, but heavily armored, and could shoot fire from both ends-

His eyes widened within his helmet and he dove to the side as a jet of flame roared through where he'd been standing. Turning his shoulder towards the ground, he turned the dive into a combat roll and came up firing his assault rifle on full auto at the slowly advancing thing. As he'd expected, it didn't do anything but piss it off and waste sixteen shots. Hefting his gun with one hand, the Spartan primed a plasma grenade and tossed it directly in the Skrewt's path. After a couple of seconds, it detonated, sending the abomination flying end-over-end. Luckily for the Spartan, it landed on its back, legs flailing helplessly in the air. B-312 quickly ran over, stomped his boot on the thing's tail just below the stinger, and emptied the rest of his magazine into the Skrewt's relatively soft underbelly, splattering him with green blood and ichor.

Inserting another magazine into his assault rifle, B-312 tore around the corner, and beheld the glowing, golden Triwizard Cup a few hundred meters away. Spartan Time kicked in, and he took off in a full-on sprint towards the cup, his feet kicking up massive clods of earth and grass as he ran. Dimly, he noticed a flash of light as he ran passed a champion, but paid it no mind. In under two seconds he'd reached the cup and grabbed it firmly with one gloved hand.

Then with a jerk behind his abdomen, the Spartan vanished.

* * *

_The Graveyard..._

Still under the influence of Spartan Time, when B-312 hit the ground he immediately ducked and rolled behind the nearest piece of cover; a headstone. Crouching low, he checked his motion tracker. A single contact a few meters away. He'd lost his assault rifle, probably left it back in the maze before he was transported here, wherever _here_ was. Shrugging, he drew his pistol instead, turned, and rose from behind the headstone.

A squat, very ugly man with a sniveling nose and tiny, beady eyes stood just beyond, staring at him. One hand held what appeared to be a bundle of rags, the other a wand, which was pointing at him.

"_Stun him now!_" A high-pitched, cold voice ordered.

"_Stupefy!_" The rat-like man incanted, and B-312 watched bemusedly as a jet of red light flew from the man's wand-

-And dissipated harmlessly against his energy shielding, which absorbed the shot with a flash of gold light and a muted crackle. As Wormtail's eyes went wide in shock, the Spartan smoothly raised his pistol and placed the HUD's crosshairs over his skull.

"_Bang._" He said, pulling the trigger and splattering the scenery behind Wormtail with skull, brains, and bits of hair and skin.

As the echoing report of the magnum faded and the Death Eater's body crumpled to the ground, B-312 walked up and nudged the bundle he'd been carrying with his armored foot.

The bundle exploded, and B-312 got the briefest impression of a naked, fur and scale-covered, red-eyed, genderless baby flying at him before the thing latched onto his helmet, trying to pull it off, all the while shrieking with an unholy rage. Stunned for a brief instant, B-312 reached up with his left hand, grabbed Lord Voldemort by the back of his misshapen head, threw him on the ground, and with a grunt drove his right foot clean through the horrible, twisted _thing_'s body. The Dark Lord's screeching died away, and the Spartan sighed in relief.

"Huh, that was different." He muttered.

The super-soldier walked a ways away and sat down, idly trying to wipes the chunks of dead Dark Lord off his foot. He tapped his wrist computer and activated the emergency beacon. The young man then leaned back against a headstone, pulled his helmet off, and lit up a cigarette that he'd pulled from a hidden compartment in his armor.

_Any more surprises you'd care to throw at me today?_ The green-eyed, black-haired Spartan-III asked of the universe.

* * *

Ta-da. As usual, I own nothing.


End file.
